psychosis

Dear Diary,

Oh hello, my lovely little darlings! And how are all my appetizers doing today? Good? I hope so. I hope you are all nicely stewing in your juices, ripening on the vine as it were. Let's see what to tell, what to tell? Well, your favorite succi has a had to have a little move. Since I had the little abortive run-in with Mr. Nosbren, I couldn't very well stay over the Slaughtered Lamb anymore, could I my dears. No that would have been a good way to get yours truly stuck with a nasty, pointy, envenomed thing in the middle of the night. Or even worse... a visit from the local clergy. And not the bend me over the coffee table and make me confess like an altar boy type of visit either. No no, we're talking exorcism and expulsion, two of my least favorite things. That just wouldn't do at all. So I abandoned my little flat and made off with my bottles and baubles to a new place here in Old Towne.

The young monk's eyes stared into Fanshen's, their noses just inches apart. His breath smelled like the simple way bread they ate here at the monastery. The monks made it in the big kitchens they'd passed on their way through the building. She detected the hint of honey, maybe cinnamon... she couldn't be sure. The young man tried to gasp, to pull a breath. The coppery smell of blood mixed with the bread smell on him. A gurgling wet sound was all that escaped his lips. In the few seconds they'd stood so close, his face had gone from the crimson filled blush of battle to a pale blue. His pupils had dilated disjointedly and his eyes had become unfocused. Fanshen could feel the warmth of his blood on her hands through her gloves. Each of her hands still gripped her daggers' hilts, which protruded from the man's chest like some sort of demented handles. As his body's systems began to fail from the lack of oxygen, he slumped. She let him drop to the cool flag stones like a broken doll.